Life Expectancy
by Mystic25
Summary: "He saw him sitting through a church window." Set a year or so post-Series Finalie. Amy and Bruce
1. Chapter 1

"Life Expectancy"

Mystic25

Summary: "He saw him sitting through a church window." Set somewhere a year or so post Series Finalie. Amy and Bruce.

Rating: T for language, imagery, minor violence, and some sexual references.

A/N: My longest Judging Amy Fic yet, I actually didn't intend it to be this long, but here is what came out to be. And yes, the summary sucks, but I can't really think of anything else. And I apologize in advance for any mistakes. This was beta'd, but I if I missed something I'm sorry.

 **xxxxXxxx**

" _The truth is found when men are free to pursue it._ _"_

Franklin D. Roosevelt

 **xxxXxxx**

He saw him sitting through a church window, the regular clear kind, not the ones that towered as tall as Chrysler building, awash in colors of saints who martyred themselves for a sprig of Palm leaves. This made complete sense in the context of where he was, because the church was really a chapel housed inside the walls of St. Francis Hospital. This also made it a bit ironic that a chapel inside a hospital named for a Catholic saint would be free of any such depiction of Catholic saints.

Or maybe it was just the nine cups of coffee he had since noon finally colliding in his brain making everything seem more bathed in irony then would normally exist on a typical Wednesday. He hadn't even intended to be in this area of the hospital, he had a client in the locked jail ward two floors above, a suspect in an armed robbery that left one man dead and the other in ICU in the same hospital. Since the suspect was not able to leave the hospital yet he had been waiting for the presiding Judge to come down to hear his client's testimony of the robbery. But twenty minutes ago, he had been waylaid by the Judge's CSO in the hallway letting him know that "his honor had a late start this morning and would be two hours later than expected." It left him wanting to punch a hole right through the smug smile on the CSO's face but he left before he got the chance. So instead he rubbed at the tired red rings that hung in his eyes ever since six am that morning and retreated to the elevator which would take him down stairs to the cafeteria because his coffee levels were starting to wane in his circulatory system.

He had gotten off on the ground floor and walked past a group of nurses in crisp looking scrubs and one woman with a thick tweed coat tucked under her right arm and an enormous potted fern tucked her left arm. He had moved past her with a quiet "excuse me," a branch of ferns whacking him in the nose as he had stepped off the elevator. He had stood in an enormous tiled atrium with tiles the color of burnt sand that extended outwards farther than his eyesight and broke off into a maze of _other_ opened areas, all marked by overhead signs including: _registration, outpatient, gift shop, cafeteria,_ and _chapel._ He had walked with sluggish, but enthusiastic steps over to the Starbucks barista stand, and had waited for one family to order their six-year-old a frappichunio like it was ice cream before ordering the tallest cup of coffee they sold, big enough for him to have to grasp in two hands like a toddler holding a glass for the first time.

He had started sipping as soon as he paid the woman with the overly green hat and apron and felt the stimulate effect that was only one level below that of crack cocaine course through his body, pulling his muscles into alertness like a manipulation of marionette strings from an invisible puppeteer.

He had transferred the cup into one careful tight fist, hand burning even through the cardboard sleeve wrapped around the cup to prevent such phenomena, all the while still taking slow hits from the coffee. The hospital chapel stood right before the elevators that would take him back to his client, and _hopefully_ the judge who still hadn't come up with a better excuse to miss a scheduled court appointment then trying to mask his early morning golf game as "a late start." He had walked past the crowd of people with tight drawn worry in their faces, either for themselves or for the ones that they were visiting. He never liked hospitals, ever since his first (and thankfully _only_ ) heart attack he avoided coming into any place that smelled like bleach and germicide unless it was against his own conscious consent. But a mandated interview with a guy with seven tattoos that all had some promurder phrase, who had already started puffing his chest out about how he would kill people again, until he had to leave the room to prevent the asshole from being transferred to another district and get away with all his bragging shit, that counted as against his own conscious consent.

He had only glanced up from his coffee because it burned his tongue leaving a thick tingling feeling that had him picking at it like he'd gotten a burr caught in it. And when his head turned to face the direction of the chapel windows, he saw him.

He was hard to see at first because there was an older woman in bright cardinal red that he was talking too that blocked him from view, even at his height. But after a few seconds the woman moved past him with a laugh made silent as a pantomime because of the thick glass and the noise of the atrium.

The glass door to the chapel opened with the silence of well-oiled hinges and the woman in red moved past him as he entered the small sanctuary.

A smell that he smelled in every church he'd been in assaulted him: old, well-worn leather and book pages and the dust that hung in cloth covered pews. Even in the fancy cathedral's his mother would take him, well _religiously,_ to every Sunday of his childhood he still smelled this musty smell that let him know where he was.

He watched as this other man turned to face the wooden pulpit that held a heavy looking leather bound bible, opened somewhere near the exact middle of its mass of onion thin pages. But he didn't face that way for long and he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck in a tired looking gesture and when he turned, it was to the other direction, facing him.

There was a silent limbo kind of moment where they both seemed to contemplate if what was happening was _actually_ happening before all the hyped up senses in his body shot out of his mouth in a single word:

"Bruce-"

Stu Collins heard just the quietest of swallows from the man down by the pulpit, before Bruce Van Exel said: "Stu" in the same way he had said "Bruce."

Then came the lump of awkward silence that arose between two people who ran into each other who never actually _liked_ talking when they were around each other more than the rare occasion. Then came the moment of regarding each other with more colorful acknowledgments then either of them would voice into the quietness of a church sanctuary. At least on Stu's part. It wasn't that he _hated_ Bruce, they weren't ever bar hopping buddies. But he had always considered himself civil to Bruce. But Bruce seemed to completely hate him the moment he set foot near him.

"So how've you been?" Stu cringed on the most awkward of awkward greetings, but it wasn't like either of them had any history other then equal disdain to work with.

Bruce set his hands into the pockets of his black dress pants and seemed to dissect the question: "I can't complain-" he paused, almost like it was a band-aid he was ripping off. "You?"

"Aside from the fact that I've slept only five hours in five days and the fact that I've got the client from hell chained up in the jail ward to his bed cursing any and all future children and grandchildren I may have, everything is pretty much a complaint free zone." Stu answers steam rolled each other out of his mouth.

Bruce gave him a bit of a tight lipped laugh. "Well that answered my question about what you're here being outside the realm of your job."

"No," Stu reassured. "Everything health wise has been good for quite some time, my heart's still bopping away like an out of tune base."

"Glad to hear it."

It wasn't exactly anywhere near concern for his health, but Stu took it, because it wasn't reeking of cold shouldered sarcasm like the last time they met. "What about you? Rumor mill is that you abandoned us for family counseling practice –are we within the realm of _your_ job?"

Bruce seemed to wait for him to pause for a breath before answering. "Actually no."

"Is everything okay?" Stu took in the way Bruce's dark blue dress shirt sleeves were rolled and wrinkled, the way his shirt collar was unbuttoned missing a tie that had obviously hung there. It was like he had rushed to the hospital from work and had been here several hours already. "I mean, nothing's _wrong_ is it?" He and Bruce were in no way friends, or even friendly strangers for that matter, but he still didn't wish him any real bad will.

Bruce drew his mouth closed tightly like he was thinking about the best way to answer the question before he responded with: "Not a thing."

They were now both standing near the pulpit and that bible the size of a small car, each having a clear view of the glass door as it opened, and they both turned their heads to the very quiet sound of the glass door being swung inward across the carpeted floor.

A woman stepped inside in a hospital gown and hospital issued cornflower blue robe pushing a metal IV pole ahead of her. The sight alone caught Stu off guard before the appearance of the woman fully came into focus, including a thick mass of dark brown hair that was half braided against both sides of her head.

Being caught off guard turned into shock. But while he was standing there stewing in his own sense of bafflement, Bruce moved past him and towards the woman they were both staring at.

"What do you think you're _doing?"_ Bruce asked of the hospital blue gown clad figure "you can't be down here-"

"Says who?-"

The voice of Amy Gray, that Stu hadn't heard spoken in such close proximity in years, echoed off the windows as she stood inches away from Bruce, staring up at him from their height distance.

The IV pole shifted in her grip with a squeak of a bad wheel, and the bag of fluids she was attached too swayed like a pendulum from the hook it hung on. "Nurse Ratchet upstairs told me to walk around so I'm walking around."

"She meant around the maternity floor," Bruce argued back with her. "-not out of the _hospital_."

"I'm not out of the hospital!" Amy held onto the IV pole like she was wielding a scepter. "I just needed five minutes away from someone who vaginally probes you like she's scraping paint off a building."

Bruce made a big deal about clearing his throat and cocked his head slightly in his direction.

Amy's head whipped around to where Bruce was looking, her pigtailed braids moving in a swish, eyes widening in shock as she took in the sight of Stu.

And Stu took in the full sight of _her_ standing there in slippers and a hospital gown made massive by a very pregnant stomach that didn't even try to hide itself in the blue robe wrapped over her gown.

" _Stu?"_

Stu's name was more bafflement then question. Amy didn't move for a moment, caught in the same kind of limbo, like he and Bruce he had experienced earlier. Finally, she seemed to realize that she had to do _something_ besides stare, so she moved, somewhat awkwardly hindered by the IV tubing plugged into her arm and offered him the kind of hug third grade boys gave each other when one tried to go for a hug while the other only wanted a high five.

"Hi," Amy lowered her arms from where they had been somewhat perched around Stu's shoulders, pulling back and smiling at him a few watts too brightly like she was over compensating.

"Hi," Stu returned, not being able to help his glance down at the obvious reason she was in the hospital. " _Wow."_ He made a gesture that indicated all of her, then looked at her in a bit of guilt. "I'm sorry, wow's all I got-that and you are _really_ pregnant."

"You should've stopped at 'wow' Stu," Amy still smiled brightly, but then seemed to sense that her words were a little harsh by the beat of silence that came immediately afterwards. "Sorry, I've just had my fill of being 'really pregnant." She looked down at her stomach. "I'm more than ready to get this show started."

"Well I'm not an expert," Stu volleyed back "But, I _think_ you're in the right place for something like that to happen."

Amy laughed, tight lipped and turned back up to him. "Yeah, I heard that too," she set both hands on her bowed back and looked at him in an appraising manner like she was sizing him up for the opening argument he was about to give in her courtroom. "So how you've been? How's your wife-?"

"Filimoeika," Stu filled in the pause for Amy for his wife's name, the woman he met on what was supposed to be his and Amy's honeymoon, before she left him at the church.

"Filimoeika Collins," Amy repeated the name like it was a particularly strong aftertaste of wine. "That certainly rolls right off your tongue."

"It means: "enemy of sharks," Stu added, "It's kind of a mouthful, but it's a very strong female name in Polynesian culture."

"It- it defiantly sounds like it," Amy returned, her lips were drawn in a tight line.

"I call her "Filli," Stu said back. "Like cute little female pony, she loves it."

"Aw that's- cute," Amy returned, her lips were drawn in an even tighter line and her face was half turned away from him.

Stu looked at her with a brow lowered in concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine," Amy replied, her lips still drawn tight on what she was holding back, "It's just been," she cleared her throat very audibly. "I've been in labor for about five-" she checked her wrist like there was a watch on it, then when realizing that her wrist was bare, she glanced up to the black and white wall clock sat just behind the vestibule. "-five hours, just _busy day,_ ya know? _"_ She laughed too short of a time for her. "So do you and your Filli-" her words were cut off and she shared an expression with Bruce where they were both holding something back, lowering her head before looking back up at him with her still, little too wide of a smile. "Do you and her have any kids?"

Stu watched as she reached over and slapped Bruce's shoulder with the back of her hand and the expression they both shared vanished. "No. Filli's big in the interior decorating scene and I'm still working 70 hour weeks, it just isn't a good time to have kids – plus I have it on someone's good authority here that I was never really good with them."

Stu really _was_ never very good with kids. It wasn't that he didn't like them, he was always just afraid of doing or saying something that would be wrong or embarrassing. When his wife opted out of having kids for at least a Five Year Plan span, he was secretly glad. When he and Amy had still been together, she kept assuring him that he would "learn." But it was easier for her to say because she never became a parent in the middle of a child's life; she had gotten Lauren before she was mobile and could talk back. It was always something he never saw eye to eye on with her.

Amy's smile lowered off her face like a slowly capsizing row boat. "I never said that."

"C'mon Amy, you did everything _but_ say that," Stu kept his voice light, but the acid taste of bitterness still hung in the air. It wasn't like he had sat around sticking pins in Amy Gray Voodoo dolls all these years, but having to face the woman who left him at the alter on their wedding day, no matter where they both currently were from the removal of that, was still abrasive. "When we were together, you never trusted me with Lauren."

"I said you could _learn_ \- Stu" Amy's lowered look became more defensive. "Like all parents do. I never trusted you with Lauren because you never trusted _yourself_ with her-"

She cut herself off with what she about to say and Stu watched her grimace and take a sharp intake of breath. "Are you okay?"He watched her rub at expanse of her stomach with one hand in long circular motions, bending over the IV pole. "What's wrong?"

"She's having a contraction," Bruce answered with a hard look in Stu's direction as Amy bent down even further, almost completely in half. "That's something that happens during labor."

Stu watched as Bruce turned his attention quickly away from him like he was discarding a bad piece of meat and turned to Amy.

"Hey," Bruce lowered his head to her and set a hand on her shoulder "Come on, deep breaths-" his other hand he set on her stomach that she was curled into.

Amy's hands stilled and she dropped her head against Bruce's upper chest, letting go of the IV pole go to claw her hands into his forearms, taking deep, audible breaths that hitched at the ends.

Stu watched as Bruce breathed in time with her in slow deliberate movements. "You got this baby-" his hand moved off her abdomen and slid around her back.

The word 'baby' blew against Stu like a stormy wind. He had only ever called Amy 'baby' a handful of times, and each time she seemed to shy away from the word like it was a conk on the head with his cave man mallet. But now, he watched as she responded to the term by drawing herself closer to Bruce, which considering that they were already _right_ next to each other, had her pushing her forehead practically _into_ his chest.

Stu probably should've just left then. He'd only been around Amy again for all of five minutes and he'd already rubbed at her like an abrasive brillo pad, plus she seemed pretty occupied at the moment. Plus he was in the middle of meeting with his asshole client, plus he was _married_ , and it wasn't like he thought he had any secret feelings for Amy except for resentment, and those feelings weren't exactly secret. It was perfect opportunity to leave that came with its own built in explanation that let them all just go their separate ways. But like a dumbass, he stayed rooted to the spot, watching them both like that time years ago when they had done this in front of him on Amy's front porch.

The pair of them both stayed like that for over a span of two minutes, until Amy's death grip of Bruce slackened and she pulled away from him.

Amy stood there out of breath, sweat shinning on her face. "I think it's done."

"Are you sure?" Bruce looked at her in concern, holding onto her arms.

"For now at least-" Amy breathed out one long breath and raised her head up to his. "Can I just skip ahead to the part where the baby's already born?" her trademark laugh back for a moment masked behind hard breaths.

"Do you want me to start praying for that miracle right here? Because that might take a while." Bruce asked quietly.

Stu watched as Bruce laughed, and Amy hit him in the shoulder again. Then he watched as Bruce rubbed at the back of her neck with his hands and her head dipped in a somewhat melting fashion at his touch.

Stu felt his brow furrow in a question that was basically blatantly obvious but, he still asked anyway, because he was a masochist. "So, you two are-?"

"Yes," Bruce lowered his hands down from Amy's neck. His answer was short and brief, but his look wasn't, it hung there like a bent nail waiting for one more badly placed hit to send it flying out to impale someone.

"Guess all those rumors circulating around the courtroom have actual merit then," Stu smiled (really it was a bit of a smirk, but he still tried) to let the knowledge that it was meant as a joke seep into the words. He really didn't know what it was about being in front of Amy again, but it was making him feel like a hormonal jock teenager. "Do you know what it is?" his question was directed at Bruce "– other than your baby I mean?"

Amy turned away from Bruce and looked at Stu, and she didn't look like she appreciated Stu's attempt at humor.

"It's a girl," Bruce answered with just enough of an inflection for Stu to feel that his sarcasm, apparently wasn't funny to him either. "Other than _our_ baby, I mean."

It wasn't exactly a western showdown at high noon, but it was close enough to make Stu recall the story of Bruce punching a man in the middle of the courthouse allegedly over something less. And it was also close enough to make Stu realize that he had overstepped, about a marathon of steps too many."Hey great," He said in an attempt to make amends. "I love girls." He realized too late that didn't think about what he said before he said it, but he didn't have time to back track before Amy cut him a look that he had seen many a lawyer cowering with their tails tucked firmly up their asses. But before she could issue the force behind such a look, physical or verbal, she groaned much louder than before, doubling over so far that she almost sat down.

He watched Bruce grab her arms, bracing her before she landed in a completely splayed out fashion on the plushness of the maroon carpet at their feet. "Okay, that was less than five minutes apart, _you,_ need to go back upstairs-" Bruce looked over Amy's shoulders at Stu. "Get a wheelchair-"

Stu and Bruce were not friends, not even close. And Stu just sat there and made inappropriate remarks about Bruce's relationship with Amy, who Stu pretty much presumed was his wife. But Stu didn't question or comment, he simply _got_ a wheelchair from where they were folded into lumped stacks by the welcome/information desk. The one he chose squeaked and drove like a drunk driving a Pinto at midnight as he pushed it with an audible bump through the glass doors.

Amy was back to gripping Bruce's arm like she was severing all circulation to both his biceps, her face contorted pain. "I knew she was lying when she said my contractions would take longer because of 'my age-" she groaned more as the contraction worked its way up and down her uterus like a whip of fire, working a few well-placed curses in that groan.

"You can debate with her when you're not in very active labor anymore-"

Stu watched as Bruce maneuvered Amy into the chair, setting the saline IV bag into her lap.

Stu walked down the thick carpet and opened the door to the chapel, watching them both past in a blur of movement, moving to the line of elevators at the opposite end from where the chapel stood, the blur of the entire last 30 minutes making him dizzy.


	2. Chapter 2

**xxxxxXxxxx**

" _Death, taxes and childbirth! There's never any convenient time for any of them."_  
― Margaret Mitchell, _Gone with the Wind_

 **xxxxXxxx**

The elevator was almost completely full when Bruce backed Amy's wheelchair into the elevator car. The clutter of people shifted backwards more as they allowed a few more onto the already crowded elevator.

"Sixth floor, _sixth floor!"_ Bruce repeated twice to be heard over a woman who had what looked like an enormous fern under her arm that shot up a good foot taller than her. A hand attached to a tweed jacketed arm disengaged itself from the conglomerate mass of people and pressed the button for the sixth floor, which brought the total number of lit buttons pushed for the floors to a grand total of eight, not counting the sixth floor.

The car shook with its one-more-person-to-full-capacity weight, beginning to move, only to stop a moment later on the second floor. A few people got off, and more got on, and this time when the car shook before moving Amy groaned.

Bruce backed the wheelchair up more into the car with jerky motions, pushing them practically against the wall of the car to make room that the elevator didn't already have. He maneuvered around a teenager with more than a healthy amount of body piercings and tattoos that all had the word 'fuck' and 'establishment' worked somewhere in their designs. The girl turned her head of strawberry blonde hair cut a multitude of choppy layers, like she just stuck her fingers in an outlet. She gave him a: "Hey!" when he bumped past her with a quick excuse me as he knelt down by Amy in a crouch, resting one hand on the arm rest of the chair and the other on Amy's shoulder. "Breathe," as he said it he mimed doing it and Amy responded with very harsh, deliberate breaths. "Do you feel any pressure?"

Amy gave a repetition of fast nods. "Since last month-" she groaned out a breath.

"Don't _push_ , alright?" We're almost there-" Bruce set a hand in her thick mass of curls.

"Are you like her Lamaze coach or something?" The teen with the body piercings was looking over at them.

Bruce raised his head and stared at her. "I'm her _husband._ _"_

The girl looked at Bruce with a cock eyed expression that wrinkled her eyebrows that sent one of her 'fuck establishment' tattoos wiggling above one pink eyebrow stud. "But you're _black-"_

"I hadn't noticed,"Bruce threw back.

The teen blew him off like she was talking to a classmate in home room that she didn't like instead of a grown man. "What makes you think you have the right to come up in here and take _our_ people?"

"You're 15 or 16 years-old, " Bruce said in a reprimand. "The only _people_ you have are your parents and I don't think they would appreciate their daughter acting like a punk."

"Hey lady," the teen ignored Bruce and stared down at Amy. "Is it true what they say? Once you go back you never go ba-?"

"How about you try shutting up?" Amy blasted at the teen's racist remark in between on contraction and the next. "And if you want to 'fuck establishment' so badly why don't you start with your racist mouth?" The teen gaped at her, with a cocked eyed, open mouthed look and so did several other people. People which Amy ignored because she had been given the stink eye by angrier faces than suburban teenagers pretending to be hardened street thugs.

The elevator dinged again, this time on the third floor as a handful of people started to get off the elevator. This included the racist mouth girl who flipped Amy off as she exited the car, and Amy saw several people shake their heads in disgust, but say nothing to the girl as she walked away. New people began moving into the elevator, including college age looking guys in perfect health looking stances.

"Oh for the love of-" Amy blew out her breath on her next contraction and grabbed her IV bag, pushing herself up out of the wheelchair.

"Whoa, whoa, Amy-what are you doing?" Bruce made a grab for her arm but she pushed past him, walking over in socks and house slippers to the two twenty somethings guys in red baseball caps at the front of the elevator.

"Hey!" Her voice was loud enough for the people who waiting outside to board the elevator to jump at the noise. "If you can stand and walk your own, take the damn stairs, I'm having a baby here!" She turned just as one of the red capped twenty something guys was about to push the button for the third floor.

Amy turned to him just as his finger was mid push. "Do it, and it's the last thing you're going to use that finger for."

The guy was taller than her by almost three inches, but he lowered his hand at her glower and backed away, moving backwards out the elevator door, another second his friend followed suit, and in another second the elevator doors closed.

Amy was hit with another contraction; she gasped audibly and pushed her head the elevator control panel, digging her fingers into cold, slick metal, trying not to follow the gravity of her buckling knees.

Bruce pushed past all the people who were now watching at her and talking about watching, as well as the multiple scenes he and Amy created on the elevator, in not so hushed whispers. He pushed past the two college kids and grabbed her from behind before she slid to the floor.

"Here-" Someone from the back of the elevator pushed the wheelchair Amy had abandoned towards them.

"Come on baby, sit-" Bruce helped Amy lower herself into the chair and knelt down in front of her.

"Bruce," Amy lowered herself into the chair with a shuddering, exhausted breath. She felt the sweat cling heavily in her curls. "I don't want to do this anymore-"

"I know you don't," Bruce didn't try to lie to her and say that she did, because what person in their right mind _wanted_ to experience horrible pain? "But you're out of other options."

"Not helping," Amy insisted.

"Sorry-"Bruce slid a hand behind her back, and began to rub it over the rough feeling hospital gown. "How about now?"

Amy nodded furiously again, blowing out the end of the contraction on a breath.

The woman with the potted fern stepped over to them, catching a man with an overly crisp looking charcoal suit with a face full of leaves.

"First baby?" she gazed down at both Amy and Bruce while in the background the man spat round fern leaves out of his mouth.

Bruce looked up at her. Besides the fern, and the tweed, she also had a wide brimmed red hat secured to her hair with a pearl topped hat pin. "Second."

The woman's eyes widened in such surprise, the fern almost dropped from her hands. "Second babies always come very fast, mine was born in the car two minutes from the emergency ward– she needs to be upstairs-" she spoke with a knowledge old southern women in quilting circles used.

"She _was_ upstairs _"_ Amy answered the 'she' question as it pertained to her. "Until she had to walk _downstairs_ to find her husband talking to _Stu-"_

The Fern Woman looked at Bruce with a side glance at Amy. "Who's Stu?"

"I was in the Chapel," Bruce looked at Amy. "My conversation was supposed to be between me and God, he was the one who came out of nowhere and interrupted, what did you want me to do?"

"Punch him in the damn face so he goes home with a bloody noise to Filimoeika, the Polynesian shark enemy child bride."

Bruce stared at her for a long moment before laughter erupted from him.

And even with the lingering effects of her last contraction, Amy started laughing with him, erupting into a full on snorted laugh. He grabbed at her sweat dampened curls and lowered his forehead down to hers.

"Here-"

Amy and Bruce turned and saw the woman with the potted fern, holding it out to Amy with both hands like a gift.

"It's a tradition in our family. Ferns have been used in Latin America for centuries to help with _vigorous_ breast milk production," the woman didn't look Latin American in the slightest and spoke with a thick New England accent.

"O-h," Amy said in a stalled type of voice someone would use when a stranger handed her a potted fern in a hospital elevator with a lactation history attached to it. "You don't have to do that- you brought it for someone else-"

"This is my sister's _seventh_ child honey," Fern Woman insisted. "She has enough ferns to start an indigenes rainforest," she pushed the Fern pot into Amy's lap. "Take it-"

Amy closed her hand around the plastic pot somewhat awkwardly, and said "thank you."

The elevator car rolled up to a heavy stop, and the movement jolted a contraction more painful than all the others through every muscle fiber of her uterus.

Amy's swore something much harsher than 'damn' time curling a hand around her abdomen. "She has to stop doing that!" she curled herself around her curled hands, the potted fern falling into a heap of soil at her words. A gasp caught itself in her throat ending up in a grunt by the time it came out of her mouth.

"Hang on just a little longer, okay?" Bruce told her.

"Don't tell me, tell her!-"She blew out what was more of a groan than a breath.

Bruce looked over Amy's head at the crowd of people who, despite Amy's declaration were still moving out of the elevators at a stroll type of pace, like it was Sunday dinner.

 _"Hey!"_

Bruce raised his voice this time to the level he used to use to be heard over a courtroom cacophony of lawyers, clients, and loud witnesses. The remaining people on the elevator turned at the thundering sound. "Anyone _not_ about to give birth, back away from the damn door!"

The small crowd parted like a river as Bruce pushed Amy in the wheelchair, almost running right into Maxine who came running at them from the other end of the hall.

"Where for _heaven's_ sake did you go?!"


	3. Chapter 3

**xxxxXxxx**

" _I am not emotionally ready for ninety percent of what happens to me."_

~Maxine Gray "Judging Amy"

 **xxxxxXxxxxx**

"What do you mean you _don't_ know where she is?" Maxine cornered the nurse in celadon green scrubs against the wall of the nurse's station with her stare. "Is it this hospital's policy to misplace its pregnant patients?"

"I told you, she said she was going to walk around and that's the last I saw of her." The nurse closed the top flap of the metal chart in her hand to cover up the identifying patient information on it before setting it back into the metal rack of that held five other charts, having to move past a desk cluttered with half empty Starbucks cups and an opened bag of chocolate truffles.

"If you would have bothered to look up from your bon-bons and your mocha whips you would have noticed she wasn't even on the _floor!"_

"We only low jack the _babies_ Mrs. Gray, your daughter is a grown woman she can go where she wants-" The nurse skirted around the counter of the nurse's station where Maxine was standing to grab another chart off the rack and write something in it.

Maxine rounded gaze on her with a look that could melt fire. "My daughter is _moments_ away from giving birth. Now that fact may not interest you since you get paid regardless of where that happens, but I'd _personally_ rather her not do this in the gift shop or the atrium!-"

"Then maybe _you_ should _call her_ -" The nurse picked up a chart. "I hear cell phones are a thing nowadays."

The nurse looked all of 21-years-old, and at some angles, 17 with her long brown hair tied up in a ponytail with white ribbon that had little pink and blue pacifiers on it.

Maxine closed her mouth in a dangerous line, rage amassing to hellfire flame strength burning its way up her throat. "I also hear that it's a thing nowadays to have fully stocked malpractice insurance for ignorant, scrunchie wearing, pill pushing 10-month course, technical school graduates-"

"Excuse me," the voice cut in followed by a very loud, over emphasized throat clearing. Sean Potter came up right in-between Maxine and the nurse, standing next to him was Rebecca, Bruce's 14-year-old daughter.

Both Maxine and the nurse she was ripping into turned their attention to Sean.

"Rebecca wanted to know where she could find some real Coke, apparently they're out of everything except cheap knock offs in the vending machines up here."

"Oh sweetie," The nurse's face suddenly lowered into an overly sugary laden gaze of sympathy. She clicked her retractable pen closed, and pocketed it in the front pocket of her scrub top, making a big deal about bending down to Rebecca's height, which wasn't that much shorter than her own. "I know it's _scary_ having new little brother or sister coming into the world. It can make you feel like you aren't getting mommy and daddy's attention. So I tell you what, how about I show you to _our_ vending machine in the ' _nurses lounge.'"_ She said 'nurses lounge' like she was saying: Windsor Palace. _"_ Would you like that?- _"_

"I'd like for you to stop talking to me like I'm one the _babies_ you deliver," Rebecca volleyed back in perfect sarcasm.

The nurse's smile pulled down on her face just as Maxine fought to bite one off of hers.

"Becca-sweetheart. Why-" Maxine cleared her throat and rubbed a thumb across her forehead to keep from simply laughing in the nurse's face. "Why don't you and Lauren go scout out this vending machine, with, uh-" She bent forward and read the name off the Nurse's ID. " _Katie_ here-"

"It's Katherine," the nurse corrected, her expression no longer happy or sympathetic.

Maxine pulled out three singles and handed them to her stepgrandaughter. "I'm sure _Katie_ , will be more than happy to show you both where it is, and I'll let you know when your parents show up."

Rebecca took the money from Maxine with a less than self-contained grin that she shared with her grandmother. She left to go find Lauren who was standing at the end of the hall, leaving the nurse to shoot Maxine the briefest of withering looks before following after the two teenage girls who walked just fast enough ahead of her that she had to jog to keep up.

Maxine watched them both leave with a look of pride in her eyes. "Rebecca's been a wonderful addition to the family."

"She certainly has your over the top cynicism down." Sean said.

"Sean, you came to stand in for Ignacio since he couldn't get back in time from that Horticultural Nightmare Bulb Show in Cleveland, not to correct my putting an overzealous little imp back in junior high where she belongs-" she took a breath because she realized she was ranting at the wrong person. "I'm sorry, I-" she looked around the labor and delivery floor. "I never thought I'd be here with Amy again, certainly not after-" she paused, the silence speaking of the baby Amy had miscarried days before her 40th birthday. "I just want everyone to be delivered safely." When Amy and Bruce had told everyone that she was pregnant again, Maxine had been happy if not more than a little scared. Amy was over 40 and had already suffered one miscarriage months prior; Maxine basically held her breath for 7 months, and was holding it even harder now when they were so close to the finish line.

"Amy will be fine."

"She's 41 Sean," Maxine said back. "Having a baby at this age poses, _significant_ risk."

She's _your_ daughter Maxine, she's strong, she can handle it." Sean set a hand on Maxine's shoulder, offering her a reassuring smile. "So don't worry, _grandma."_ His smile grew megawatt bright.

"Sean, I love you dearly," Maxine removed Sean's hand from off her shoulder, and cupped his face in her hands with a smile. "But if you call me grandma with that tone of inflection again, I will do to you what I wanted to do to Nurse Brittany Spears."

"Understood," Sean returned.

"Grandma!"

Maxine turned at the sound of by Lauren's voice and turned to see her granddaughter running back down the hall with Rebecca, neither of them had sodas in her hand. "What's wrong?"

"Mom and Bruce are back!" Lauren answered in a hurried manner.

Her granddaughter's words shot Maxine forward like a torpedo, her shoes thudding in her fast stride over the tile. She turned a corner and caught sight of Bruce pushing Amy in a wheelchair in a stride just under a run. She hurried over to them and rounded on her daughter. "Where for _heaven's sake_ did you go?"

"Out for a latte," Amy said over a thick pained voice as another contraction hit her full on.

Maxine ignored Amy's sarcasm and appraised her daughter with a critical maternal, eye. "How far apart are they now?"

"The elevator trip from hell took about four minutes," Bruce pushed the chair quickly down the hallway with a whirring of wheels. "She's had two contractions while we were on it."

Maxine turned back to the Nurse Katie. "Get doctor winters down here now-"

Katie looked at her affronted. "She's in the middle of a C-section."

"She's had multiple contractions in less than four minutes- _get. her. down. here!_ " Maxine shouted loud enough to wipe the affronted look off of Katie's face and had her reaching for the phone as she took command of the wheelchair until it was pushed into Amy's assigned birthing room while Bruce kept pace right alongside of her.

"Mom," Lauren ran in a jog to keep up pace with the wheelchair, her voice laced with fear. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Amy pulled out of her curled position and grasped her daughter's hand. "I'm okay, I'm okay-just go wait with Uncle Vincent"

"But I want to be with you-" Lauren argued. "You said I could be here."

"I know what I said, but the nurse is going to do stuff that I don't think you'd want to see, I need you to come back in a little bit, okay-" Amy leaned over as another contraction hit her. She had been laboring for four hours, but her contractions had stalled out, until twenty minutes ago, feeling more, 'vicious' was the only way to describe it. "Can't I just have her here?" She didn't even want to think about standing up again to get to her bed, it felt like someone was trying to push a bag of porcupines out of her vagina.

"No grandchild of mine is going to be born in a hallway!" Maxine insisted, turning to Lauren. "Lauren, please listen to your mother, you and Rebecca go with Sean and find Uncle Vincent and Uncle Peter, and give us about 15 minutes before coming back. I promise nothing good will happen without you."

Lauren still looked affronted at being treated like she was still seven-years-old, but finally said. "Okay," before Amy kissed her daughter's hand several times before releasing it wheeling Amy through the doorway of her birthing room as Sean ushered both Lauren and Rebecca around where the hallway turned to the left towards the waiting room where the overflow of Gray family members were waiting.

Maxine continued to push the wheelchair. "In my day, children weren't allowed in the delivery room, something about seeing your mother screaming and half-dressed in stirrups causing trauma."

"She's 14 mom, I think she can handle it." Amy argued, "I was at the hospital when you had Vincent."

"You sat on your father's lap in the lobby and ate ice cream Amy, it's not the same thing." Maxine stopped the chair with a squeak of wheels.

"Yeah well she said she wants to be here, so I want her here," Amy returned.

"We'll debate it once you're back in in bed," Maxine insisted. She set the breaks and she and Bruce each took a side and helped Amy stand to her feet.

Katie hurried inside the room, stethoscope bobbing around her neck from the movements that she stilled with her hand on the bell and the ear pieces. "Dr. Winters will be here as soon as she finishes up with her C-section," she said this to Amy just as Amy doubled over in another contraction, throwing herself against the bedframe before she just dropped in a ball on the floor.

Amy groaned again, louder. "God, I don't remember it being this painful with Lauren."

"Every labor is different, Mrs. Van Exel," Katie walked over to her in an almost non-hurried manner, helping Maxine and Bruce get her back in a lying position on the bed, "And contractions can be much more intense for women at such an advanced maternal age like yourself." She said it like she was reading the preflight safety precautions on an airplane. She pulled the straps of a fetal monitor posting the first one over the peak of Amy's extended uterus. "It's all perfectly normal," She squirted gel on the second probe and moved it slid it with cold thickness across Amy's stomach until the fetal monitor beside the bed filled the room with the swishing thunk of the baby's heartbeat. "See?" she turned with a wide 'take it easy' smile at Amy. She held the monitor in place and pulled the straps through it to hold it in place.

Amy turned to stare at the monitor numbers, listening to the loud beating of the baby's heartrate that filled up the entire room

"She looks _wonderful_ ," Katie set a hand on Amy's stomach and rubbed it. She got her face right down next to Amy's stomach "Don't you, whittle baby? Yes you do, _yes you do!_ " She made a variation of a motorboat motion as she coed against Amy's belly.

Amy gave Katie a 'what the hell?' look, clenching her right hand into a fist until Bruce grasped it and pulled it to him before she could lower it into a chokehold on Katie's neck.

Katie pulled away oblivious to all of this and beamed at her. "Pain better?"

"A little bit, yeah" Amy said this in a bit of a guarded fashion like Katie might offer her a coloring book next.

"Well they don't call it un _labor,"_ Katie laughed with a high spirited laugh, looking around the room for everyone to 'get' her joke.

Maxine laughed with such force that anyone who _wasn't_ Katie would have noted the fakeness it, but Katie just kept on laughing and Amy laughed with her, forcefully squeezing Bruce's hand to almost bone breaking strength to keep from putting her hands on Nurse Katie.

"I'll be _right_ back to check you again, okay mommy?" Katie hung her half full bag of saline back on the IV pole by the bed. "It shouldn't be long now!"

Amy smiled so forcefully she it felt like she was breaking her teeth. " _Great"_ she gave an over the top thumbs up to match Katie's but with a sarcastic smile that Katie missed because Katie petted the top of her head like she was a child and walked out of the room with a bob of her ponytail.

"Who told Nurse Katie 'unlabor' was a word?" Amy shot out as soon as Katie bobbed away with her chart.

"The same idiot that let her into nursing school in the first place." Maxine answered.

"That idiot needs to be shot," Amy returned.

"Yes they do," Maxine returned back. She set a hand on Amy's head, wiping it gently with her hand. "How's the pain?" her voice expected a real answer.

"It's defiantly there," Amy answered back, letting out a breath. "You know how it is ma."

"Yes I do, and I _really_ wish you would have opted for the epidural. You don't lose any sense of womanhood merit by not bearing horrible pain without any drugs."

"No more lectures mom alright?" Amy returned. "I didn't have the chance to think about pain management; I was too busy finding my husband who ditched me-"

"I was saying a prayer, not going AWOL" Bruce defended. "After Rebecca was born I went to mass and lit a prayer candle to St. Philomena, the patron saint of infants. I did it again today, that and one to St. Majilla, the saint of childbirth."

"There's a patron saint for _childbirth?"_ Amy questioned. She fully supported Bruce's religion, she herself had just never converted after they were married.

"There's one for everything," Bruce insisted. "I figured it wouldn't hurt to have a little extra protection thrown you and the baby's way."

Amy's annoyance fell apart like a frayed piece of cloth at the declaration. "That's sweet- that's really sweet" she reached out with a bit of an exhausted sigh, and grabbed his hand again, closing her fingers into his one at a time. "I'm sorry baby – God," she dipped her head back on the pillow and dropped her hand over her eyes, the IV catheter in her hand digging in against her skin. "I haven't had a baby in 14 years-"

"You either?" Bruce returned.

Amy glanced up at him and laughed in an exhausted kind of fashion, "What the hell were we thinking?"

"Mostly likely it was about sex." Maxine returned. "It's certainly what your father and I were thinking off when we made you and your brothers."

"Ma," Amy returned in mortification, swiping at her eyes like she wanted to pull them out of her socket. "Don't make me picture you and daddy having sex."

"If people didn't have sex, Amy, then civilization as we know it would grind to a screeching to a halt," Maxine returned. "Bruce is the theological one, ask him."

"It was a part of the Commandments before they got dropped down to ten," Bruce deadpanned to his wife. "Haven't you ever seen _"History of the World?"_

" _Stop encouraging her!"_ Amy shot back. Bruce only laughed and leaned over the bedside rails. "No. You don't get off the hook like that," Amy said as he was nearing towards. "You're supposed to be on _my_ team, remember?" Bruce kept ignoring her and at the end of their little dance she gave in and let him kiss her. "I hate you."

"I know you do," Bruce returned softly, his face was still inches from hers.

"And you did this to me, just so you remember." Amy returned.

"I remember." He pulled back and a bit of a smile graced Amy's face with a bit of a head shrug.

The next two events that happened in Amy's birthing room happened almost at the same moment. The first one was that Amy's eyes widened with a ' _you've got to be kidding'_ mumbled under her breath as she caught sight of Stu Collins in his perfectly ironed charcoal gray suit turning at a nurses pointing into her room. And the second: the contractions that seemed to have quieted down since she had been back in her room came back, hard.

Amy leaned over with a gasp just as Stu made it into her room, the contraction taking her breath before she could ask him what he hell he was doing.

Maxine turned the doorway at the sound of someone entering the room, her eyes widening in surprise at what she saw. "Stewart-?"

Bruce turned at Maxine's words to Stu who stood just inside the doorway by the countertop set up with the soap and liquid hand sanitizer.

"What _exactly_ are you doing here?" This time Bruce's question was asked at Stu, and much more harshly.

Stu looked past Bruce and to Maxine. "You're looking well Maxine."

"Thank you. You as well," Maxine responded with the politeness she had been taught as a child, but then her eyes narrowed in confusion because Stu and Amy didn't exactly keep in touch all these years. "But _what are_ you doing here?"

"I ran into Amy and Bruce downstairs in the Chapel," Stu returned to Maxine, like it was a two plus two kind of answer, gesturing behind him to the Chapel that was hidden by a hallway and six lower floors. "And hospital visiting hours are still on, so I just thought, _what the hell?_ Why not stop and check on everyone?"

"What about your client?" Bruce asked in a very low voice, starting to remember exactly why he never liked Stu Collins. "Shouldn't you actually be going upstairs and speaking to him?"

"The judge never showed," Stu returned, "His CSO fed me a line about him getting into some sort of maritime accident, well you know how it is with covering for a judge, Bruce. So that means I get to go home without accomplishing anything and do this whole damn thing again tomorrow."

Even in the midst of her contraction, Amy still managed to stare at Stu. "How'd you even know where I was?"

"There's only one maternity ward in this place- I just asked for your name at the nurse's station," Stu answered like it was obvious. "Amy _Van Exel?"_ his tone shifted to annoyed audacity. "When I asked you to change your last name you wouldn't even _consider_ it-you said it was against your principals-"

Amy grunted out a breath as she tried to breathe through the contraction, the urge to push was right there, the damn doctor had better hurry up or she wasn't giving her a choice. "You tracked down my maternity room to throw something back in my face that I said _five years ago?"_

"I came up here to apologize for what I said downstairs, Amy." Stu returned. "I overstepped, it's just been a _very_ long day-"

"Yeah tell me about it," Amy shot back, blowing out a very long breath.

"I'm sorry," Stu finally said. "It's just, seeing you again," he laughed like it was an old joke that they both should have gotten. "I don't know what it is, but you always did do something to make me crazy."

"Can we do the whole apology thing later?" Amy returned, white knuckling the bed rail and Bruce's hand at the same time. "Maybe when I'm not in labor and when you _actually_ mean it?"

Stu looked at her like she slapped him. "Excuse me? When I _actually mean it?_ "

"I dumped you on our wedding day Stu," Amy returned while trying to blow out several breaths all at once. "You have every right to be burned by it and run off into sunset with the Polynesian interior decorator you met on our honeymoon that never happened, but don't try to fake sincerity around me!"

"God," Stu blew out a raspberry of a laugh. "You haven't changed at all-it's all still about the insatiable Judge Amy Gray-"

" _I'm_ _in_ _labor!_ " Amy shouted at him. "And I never wanted you up here in the first place!"

"Which is history repeating itself," Stu returned.

Amy closed her mouth in a deadly straight line. "Get out-"

Stu stared at her like she slapped him. "Amy c'mon-"

Bruce turned around to face Stu when he didn't move.

"She said get out Stu," Bruce repeated Amy's words, his glower matching his wife's. "You're an _adult_ , how about you finally do something in that age category and drop the teenage, jock, asshole mentality?-"

"I'm not the only adult in this room, Bruce," Stu threw back. "And I'm not the only one who's being an asshol-"

It happened in a blink, Bruce let go of Amy's hand and slammed a fist right at Stu's face before fully had time to think.

"Oh Bruce!" Maxine exclaimed audibly as the force of Bruce's punch threw Stu backwards on the floor with a heavy groan and a bloody nose.

Bruce looked at Stu lying on the ground, releasing his hand from the fist it was in with a pop of his knuckles, the reality of what he just did fully sinking it, but not above the part that fully thought Stu damn well deserved it.

Maxine walked in white canvas sneakers over to the bedside tray that sat next to the bed, dunking a white hand towel in the plastic pitcher of ice water on top of it. She wrung it out and walked over to where Stu was still sprawled on his back on the hospital floor. Without formal invitation, she bent down and grabbed Stu up by his underarms and yanked him to his feet. "Here, wipe your nose, there are nurses outside that can give you further medical attention if you think it's broken, or police officers you want to file a report." she pushed the cold wet rag against his face in a sloppy movement; Stu stumbled to catch it with one of his hands. "But I suggest the next time my daughter tells you to get out, you listen." Her glower was strong, she turned her and laid a hand on Bruce's arm and there was a silent exchange between them that ended in Bruce nodding his head at her, and unclenching his throbbing knuckles.

" _Bruce-"_

Amy's voice behind him made Bruce turn slowly. Hitting someone wasn't like it was in a Clint Eastwood Movie. The last time he had lost control like this, he had been arrested, and convicted as a felon, and it had made Amy almost fearful of him and the violence he was capable of, even if it was in defense of someone he loved.

A brunette nurse poked her head in the room, stethoscope swaying around her neck. "I heard a crash-" the nurse surveyed everyone the room like they were in a police lineup "is everything okay?" Stu was standing just to the right of the nurse, but before she was able to see the bloody expression on his face a beeping alarm rang from the fetal monitor Amy was attached too.

Whatever was about to come from Bruce's 'confrontation' with Stu Collins was drowned out in the sound of the alarm.

"Are you alright baby?" Bruce hurried back over to Amy, grabbing at her hand, and she received his touch with a wide eyed shocked look.

"I don't know-"Amy turned to the noise, blaring inches from her bed. The little heart symbol next to the numbers that registered the baby's heartbeat flashing in and out erratically as the heartrate began to lower. She watched as the brunette nurse lifted the paper readout of the motor, reading it. "What's going on?"

The second nurse's face lowering at what she saw, she raised her head and shouted: "I need some help in here!"

"Help" came in the form of Nurse Katie who ran into the room with a squeak of her sneakers on the tile. "What's wrong?"

The second nurse held up the fetal monitor strip "Baby's heartrate deceled down to 110-"

"What's wrong?"

"What's the matter?" Amy's words tripped over her mother's as Katie grabbed a pair of blue plastic gloves and moved down towards the end of the bed.

"I need to check you again Amy," Katie's voice had lost its high pitched light heartedness as she maneuvered Amy's legs into a bent knee position.

Amy felt the 'paint scraping' sensation again, harsher, a sensation that had her gasping and practically clawing up Bruce's arm. Katie swore.

"Damnit!"

Which made Amy raise herself up on her elbows in alarm. " _What?-"_

"Cord's prolapsed, almost an inch is visible-" Katie whipped her head up to the other nurse, "Put her in reverse Trendelenburg's position, get Dr. Winters-"

"She had to do an emergency hysterectomy," the second nurse answered.

"This is an emergency also!" Katie yelled it. "Get mom on two liters of O2 by mask and page the OB on call _now!"_

The second nurse placed a plastic oxygen mask over Amy's face but she jerked it off. "No, _no!_ Not until someone tells me what's going on!"

Katie looked up at her. "The baby's umbilical cord slipped out before its head-"

"What does that mean?" Bruce turned to Katie.

"When that happens the head can squeeze against the birth canal and cut off oxygen to the baby," Katie's voice was much more clinical, much more assertive when she answered Bruce this time. "We're lowering the head of the bed to try and relieve some of the pressure and giving your wife oxygen to supplement the baby to prevent loss of oxygen to its body-"

"Oh god," Amy's expression shifted into fear and she finally stopped fighting the O2 mask as it was placed on her face, feeling a rush of air move up her nose, smelling her own hot breath as it moved up and down in a fog in the mask. Her head dropped down with a series of clicks drawing her lower like she was falling into a hole, her heartrate pounding in her chest, causing the heart rate monitor which monitored her own heartrate to skyrocket.

"What do we have?" An unfamiliar voice entered the room that Amy only saw in a blur of long black braided hair and celadon green scrubs.

"One inch visible cord prolapse, fully dilated, baby's heartrate's in the low 100's, moms on two liters by mask-"

"Up the oxygen to three liters and keep your hand on it." The woman slid a metal stool over to the bottom of the bed. "Amy, I'm Dr. Sanders, Dr. Winters is handling an emergency surgery so she asked me to look in on you okay? Your baby's cord is out before its head, which is causing her heartrate to lower, we have you on oxygen to try keep her stable, the nurse is manually keeping the cord away from the birth canal to try and relieve some of the pressure. I need to do a manual exam okay?"

Amy didn't have time to interject before she felt a ton of cold pressure that made her jerk up with an audible sound.

Bruce's lowered himself into a crouch to be even with her line of sight.

"Plus two station-" the pressure was finally gone as the doctor removed her gloved hand. Dr. Sanders threw the bloodied glove in the trash. "Call OR 4 tell them to prep-"

"They're done baby, okay?" He pushed his forehead into hers. "Breathe, just breathe-"

Amy closed her hand so tightly into his, calling out to the doctor. "Is she okay?"

There was a rolling movement of wheels by Amy's left side and the face of Dr. Sanders fully came into view, the top of her head covered by a blue surgical cap and her face half covered by a blue mask. "You're completely dilated, and your baby is almost fully descended into the birth canal, at this point, a C-section is almost more risky than trying to let you deliver naturally."

"So what are you going to do?" Bruce asked the woman who was only inches from him, as he held his wife's hand, feeling the pulse point in her wrist throbbing against his hand.

"We're going to move her to the OR-" Dr. Sanders returned. "In case the baby's heartrate drops any lower, we'll be prepped for an emergency C-section."

"I thought you said it was more risky than a natural birth," Bruce's voice was only one decibel louder than his heartbeat that was erratically beating inside of him.

"We might not have another option," Dr. Sanders told him, her expression serious, and so honest it felt like knives being scrapped across layers of old paint. "If the baby's heartrate lowers anymore, we might have to attempt the risk-"

"You will not _attempt_ anything!" Maxine yelled at Dr. Sanders. "You will get in there, and you will deliver my grandchild and my daughter safely, _do you hear me!"_

The brunette nurse hung up the phone she had been talking into on the wall "OR's ready."

Amy's breath was threatening to choke her as it fogged into the mask, her mind flashing back to a time a year and a half ago when she was in a place like this, except she came back from it alone.

"Our surgical theatres' are small," Dr. Sanders said this in a kind of guilty sadness as she looked around the room at Maxine, then Bruce "there's only room for one more person."

Maxine ran one hand through her short, gray hair, before looking over to Bruce, her eyes betraying all the fears that she was desperately afraid would come true. "You need to go, - you need to go," she leant down by Amy's head. "I'll tell Lauren and Rebecca," she took Amy's hand and kissed it repeatedly. "You're strong baby, you will be able to do this-" she kissed Amy's mess of curls.

The brakes on the hospital bed rails released with a thick sound of Katie and the other nurses' foot, the latter turned to Bruce. "The OR is sterile, you'll have to change before I can take you back."

"I'll be right back-" Bruce watched Amy's breath fog up the oxygen mask, felt her hand tight and warm in his. "Try not to start without me alright?" From under the mask he saw her cry, and he lifted it up off her face just enough for him to kiss her.

"Just come back-" Amy watched him, trying to take her fingers off of his, but they didn't want to release.

"Sir, we need to go," Katie's voice cut into the reality of the moment. It wasn't like television shows, where people paused to allow enough time for everything to be said because it was the real nature of an emergency, messy and fast, and unable to wait for anything but its eventual outcome.

Bruce shared a last look with Amy that ended on a nod that was split between them. He released her hand and went to follow the nurse out of the hallway, only a moments glance backwards made him realize that Stu was still standing there in the room like something misplaced in the wrong section of a store, his face bloody, Bruce left hearing Lauren's cries of: "mom!" as he hurried to keep up with the nurse.


	4. Chapter 4

**axxxxXxxx**

" _Is that a threat from a Superior Court Judge?"_

" _No. By a daughter who loves her mother, which is much worse."_

~Charles Duff and Amy Gray "Judging Amy"

 **xxxxXxxx**

Maxine's fingers were a blurred flurry of knitting needles. She was not making any type of real pattern, just creating row after row of worsted yarn the color of café blonde, the loops taking on the abuse of what Amy called her: "angry knitting." Tucked under a roll of hand dyed buttercream yarn was a nearly finished baby blanket. All that was left was to finish the trim in the color she was currently using.

She had been sitting on the porch that overlooked bushes of tea roses that wound around an ancient looking oak, halfway through completing the second side of the blanket when her cellphone, which had been a constant by her side in the past two weeks of Amy's pregnancy, rang. After that, it had been a mad rush of remembering Ignacio had their spare care parked in long term parking at the airport, and her own car had been towed into the garage the night before for a nail in the tire. And Peter and Gillian were far across town visiting Gillian's brother, the balloon artist salesman, and Vincent _had_ no car, even after two years of a good job, and she had made her last desperate plea to Sean, who picked her up in ten minutes in a battered down rust colored two seater Toyota, and it coughed and sputtered the short 15 minutes to her old home, which had become Amy's home four years ago, and Bruce's home a few years afterwards.

Sean had pulled into her old driveway to the sight of her daughter in flannel pajamas bottoms, giant gray sleep camisole and bare feet, her cellphone grasped in her hand, saying Bruce had left work and was taking the girls out of their home economic/cooking class, and she didn't have her overnight bag was because Rebecca's cat had eaten a pack of Nutter Butters and had thrown up in it the night before and everything inside it was still wet and smelled like cat vomit. And Maxine listened to all of this while ushering Amy into the car and squeezing her in beside Sean in an uncomfortable manner that couldn't be helped until Amy ran back, fully pregnant, and fully in labor, and in bare feet, to grab the keys to her own car, and her running shoes. And after climbing into her gray Volvo, they finally screeched over the dry leaves still on the driveway from last fall, Sean at the wheel why Amy yelled directions at him on how to drive stick so he didn't crash and kill them all

At the time, that moment had been the most stressful one of the day. But it was one that Maxine would've gladly traded from the one that had her knitting an unknown shape for something to do instead of beat the doors down to the OR and demand to know what was going on.

She looked up for another one of the countless times she had before, still seeing the gray doors closed with the words: _Authorized Personnel Only_ written in a shock of red across it.

Just to the edge was a glimpse of Stu Collins, who stood at the nurse's station with a line of blood stained bandages tapped across his nose like a misplaced moustache, talking to a nurse in blue scrubs and a uniformed police officer from the Hartford Police Department. The officer had a pad of paper in his hand and was writing things down, but he and Stu were too far away to hear anything.

Maxine stilled in her knitting and watched the conversation. Rebecca was next to her sitting on the edge of the seat, her weight resting on the tips of her sneakers, elbows on her jeans with her hands half hidden in the dark red hooded jacket she wore, the canvas of her sneakers began to squeak as she tapped one foot up and down and up and down on the tile, watching the officer talk to Stu Collins. There were two seats next to them that were empty of people, but were filled with one large bag and a cluster of plastic trucks belonging to Walt and Ned, both of whom were sitting on a green blanket spread out by Gillian's feet, more toys scattered around them. They were moving the toys in crashing motions like an Indy race, Lauren sat cross legged on the floor next to the boys, moving a fire truck back and forth into the path of the boys' trucks, but with no sound effects.

"Boom!" Ned started hitting Walt's truck hard with his yellow one with a loud yell " _Boom!_ "

"Ned sweetie," Gillian set a hand on her son's shoulder, leaning down to him. "Don't be so loud-"

But Ned was five, and was in the stage where he liked to do what he wanted. So he didn't listen to his mother and he banged his truck into Walt's truck so hard it tipped over with a spin of plastic wheels. "Die!" He picked up the truck and slammed it down on top of Lauren's fire truck "Die, _die, DIE!"_

"Ned _Stop It!"_ Lauren screamed at him, startling the boy into dropping his truck and turning the adult eyes of her family on her.

Lauren jumped her feet and threw the truck down with enough force that it shot one of the wheels off and sent it rolling across the floor. "Stop talking about _dying!"_ She jerked her head away and turned to face Stu in a neck jerking movement. "This is all your fault!" She walked around the couch and started walking hurriedly towards him.

"Lauren, _Lauren!-_ " Maxine dropped her knitting and rushed over to her granddaughter, grabbing her arm stopping her from moving forward anymore.

"Mom asked you to leave, and you didn't listen!" Lauren jerked in her grandmother's grip, tears moving down her face "You _never_ listened to her! You never loved her! And she and the baby could die and it's because of _you_!"

"Lauren-"

Lauren gave one last hard jerk and pulled out of Maxine's grip, taking off in a run down the left side of the hallway, pushing past nurses and doctor that got in her way.

" _Lauren Cassidy!"_ Maxine called after her, stopped in her movement from following her by Vincent standing up from his seat.

"I'll get her," Vincent turned around and ran after his niece with a call of her name.


	5. Chapter 5

**xxxxXxxxx**

" _Why is us staying together so important to you?"_

" _Because I NEED you!"_

~Bruce Van Excel and Amy Gray "Judging Amy"

 **xxxxxXxxx**

Amy had felt everything in a rush of noise and sounds: the heaviness of the fetal monitor against her side and a set of doors banged opened with a thundering echo, and then there was a bright light, a sharp smell of sterility, and even louder voices of people talking all at once.

"Full term, membranes ruptured, presenting cord prolapse, manual manipulation to keep it off the uterine wall" Katie, the labor nurse was poised at the end of the bed, and Amy knew that the tight pressure she felt was Katie's hand, keeping the baby in a single position. "Mom's on four liters by mask baby's heartrate is in the 100's plus one station

"Switch out and, and go scrub-" there was the sound of latex gloves snapping on from somewhere off in the distance and he bed rails lowered with a squeak, and the mask was lifted off of Amy's face by a woman in blue surgical clothes. "We're going to move you over, okay mom? Stay still and let us do the work-" Two other people dressed in blue surgical scrubs appeared on either side popping the corners off the fitted sheets of the bed with almost simultaneous movements.

"Where's my husband?" Amy raised her head off the pillow searching for Bruce's figure in the small operating theatre.

"Our waiting room's outside, he's probably already there, on my count-" the nameless nurse hidden behind the mask grabbed one end of the sheet.

"No, he was supposed to come back with me-"

"One, two, _three-"_

Amy felt a brief moment of being jostled like the time Peter trapped her in the hammock in the backyard when she was nine, wrapping her up like a burrito and twisting her around and around until she was dizzy and seconds away from throwing up. Her back and legs hit cold metal covered by thin disposable drapes.

"You can't come back unless you're sterile," Another nurse said. "He's probably changing into surgical scrubs-" I need you to lift up for me mom," she poked at her lower back as Amy did her best to lift herself up on her elbows as a crinkle of plastic was shoved underneath her.

"Is anyone going to _check?"_ Amy asked the strangers whose faces she couldn't see, as a jolt of pain from a contraction hit her body.

"Baby's heart still in the 100s-"

A man wheeled towards her on a stool with a squeak of wheels, his face hidden behind a surgical mask.

"He'll be brought back, don't worry," the same nurse who had manipulated the chuck pad under her said, as another person in scrubs rolled to her on a metal stool.

"Amy I'm Dr. Chambers, the anesthesiologist-you're too late for an epidural to be attempted, I'm going to give you something to help you relax in case we have to administer general anesthesia in the event of a C-section-"

"I need my husband to be back here," Amy returned.

"The nurses will bring him back soon," Dr. Chambers said. "Right now I need you to relax for me-" he untwisted the cap off a needless syringe of Versed.

"No I want to be awake-"

"It will help with pain," Dr. Chambers placed the syringe inside the Y-Port of the IV.

"We're putting this back on you, just relax-" a nurse reached around to place the oxygen mask on over her face.

Amy reached around and jerked it out of the woman's hand, pulling "No, no _no!"_ She jerked the IV line towards her, causing the Versed to drop on the floor.

"You need to relax mom, we have to prep you-"

" _Stop telling me to relax!"_ Amy's yell echoed around the surgical equipment and the scrub nurses and doctors who stared at her. "And my name isn't mom, I _am_ a mom, and I was a judge, I know what I need! Get my husband back here _now!-"_ Pain like molten fire shot through her entire bodyand she arched her back in a scream.

"Baby's heartrate's in the 90's-"

Amy had Lauren with no time for an epidural, had suffered a miscarriage, but none of that pain equaled this one, not because it was more intense, because the fear was more intense.

The doors of the operating doors swung open with a squeak and a hurried run of sneakers.

"What happened?"

"Fetal heartrate deceled to the 90's, mom refused Versed push, _adamantly-_ "

"Amy-"

Amy turned at the sound of Bruce's voice, seeing him dressed in blue surgical scrubs.

"I'm back, hey-" He grabbed her hand and the same time she reached for his. "I'm back-"

"Head's fully engaged, cord fully palpable, keep manual pressure off-" Dr. Sanders slipped off her gloves and hurried to the other side of the OR exam table, Amy, your baby is full descended into the birth canal, we're out of time for a C-section, as she spoke Dr. Sanders slipped the oxygen mask back on over her mouth and nose, "- I need you to sit up as much as you can, okay?-"

Amy clawed her remaining hand into the cold metal bedframe, struggling to create enough leverage to pull herself up, moving herself up in half inches before another contraction slacked her grip, and made her let go with a gasp.

Bruce raised himself up and caught her back before she fell back down fully, cold puddled sweat sticking to his borrowed scrubs. "I'm right here baby, you can do this, come on-"

"Up the oxygen to five liters!" Dr. Sanders ordered. "Amy, hang in there with me," She set her hands on Amy's knees covered in blue surgical cloth. "On the next contraction I need you to push-"

"Please," Amy's gasp fizzled down into streaks of tears, under the light that burned her eyes. Her fingers intertwined into the rolled fabric of Bruce's shirt sleeves. "please don't let her die- _please-"_

The next contraction came like she was being shredded apart like paper and she screamed.


	6. Chapter 6

**xxxxXxxxx**

" _If people are going to be allowed to say "we love you" and "I love you",_

 _they'd better have the backbone to prove it. Love isn't just a word."_

~ C. JoyBell C.

 **xxxxXxxx**

Stu's eyes were on Maxine the moment she drew closer to him, a bloodied gauze held under his nose, watching each of her footsteps like they were individual things each meant to attack him. He said a few final remarks to the police officer beside him before the uniformed man turned and walked away back down a non-descript white hallway.

"Maxine-"

"Don't," Maxine's words were as thick as a sea wall that could stop a typhoon. "I made my decision about you a long time ago Stewart, and what I saw today did nothing but add to that opinion-"

"I'm the one with the bloody nose," Stu held the thick, red stained gauze to his face as if for emphasis.

Maxine stepped dangerously closer to the younger man within striking distance, a fierce growling look on her face like she wanted to bloody his nose and other parts of him for a second time. "Amy left you at the altar, _four years_ _ago_ Stewart! When you didn't deserve _one_ _day_ of her time! I watched you wheedle, and bully, and snark your egotistical ways in her face and call it love, and when she finally had enough of all of it you had the _gall_ to wonder _why_ she left you at all! You're the one with the bloody nose because you _deserve it!-"_

"Maxine-" Sean set a hand on her shoulder in a tight grip that pulled her back enough to prevent the violence he saw clearly as a red painted door on a white house.

"Did you tell them to arrest my dad?" Rebecca stepped in between Stu, and Sean, her brown eyes hard on Stu, angry. "I heard what you said! Amy's my stepmom, I love her! Dad loves her too! You can't say what you did and expect _nothing!"_

"They're not arresting your dad," Stu said quickly like he would be interrupted or punched. "I'm not pressing charges-" he turned and stared around the hospital hallway like he suddenly realized he was in the wrong elevator. "I-" He stared into the fierceness of Rebecca's eyes that he saw so resembled her father's, then to Maxine's which so resembled her daughter's. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be here-" he pushed past everyone in his way walking down the same hallway as the guard with a clicking sound of his shoes.

 **xxxXxxxx**

Vincent found Lauren by a wall made of glass that peered into the newborn nursery. There were rows and rows of babies in plastic isolettes, flailing their arms and legs in wild jerky movements as they tried to acclimate to their new lives on the outside world. As Vincent drew closer to his niece he could see her shaking. "Lauren?-"

She turned around, a rainfall of tears shining on her face. "I don't want mom to die-"

"Hey," Vincent said "She's not going to die, you need to get that out of your head right now."

Lauren drew in a breath and more tears shook free down her face. "It's just like it was before-the baby's going to die, and _mom-_ "

"Listen to me," Vincent closed the distance between them and set a hand on Lauren's arm. "You're mom's _not_ going to die, and neither is your little sister okay? They're both strong, it's not going to be like before-it's not, I promise you."

Lauren's face crumpled like a letter left out in the rain. She threw her arms around Vincent and sobbed over the sound of the babies on the other side of the glass.

 **xxxxXxxxx**

Just when she thought she had reached a new level of pain, the pique raised itself higher in altitude, the world felt like it had exploded in a misty haze that hid the ground from view.

"Push Amy!-"

The haze evaporated into the sharp clarity of reality and she was bogged in a lake of sweat, every muscle in her body screaming, competing for the scream that came out of her mouth. "I can't do this anymore!"

"You can," Bruce's arm was locked around her shoulders, keeping her reclined, his free hand grasping hers. "Yes you can baby, come on!"

"The baby's _right_ here Amy," Dr. Sanders's voice came from somewhere where Amy couldn't see "Countdown to three and push, three, two one, go- _push!"_

Amy bared down, a tangled gasping cry pulled away from her, he pique stopped raising itself, and the pain stayed and erupted.

"Heads out, stop pushing, let me clear the cord."

Amy released the last of her gasp like the air of a deflated balloon, waiting, feeling smaller waves of pain replace the tidal wave of before.

"Shoulders are clear, baby's out-cord's intact-"

"It's over," Bruce's hand was in her hair, weaving through her falling apart braids, wiping sweat off her head with the back of his hand. "It's over baby."

Amy tried to see over the drapes and lights but all she saw was a blue towel and a crowd of nurses. "Is she okay?-" No answer came, no noise came from the blue towels, just frantic movements that seemed to go on forever and slow time down at the same time.

"She's not crying-" she gripped the hand tighter that gripped hers, locking eyes with Bruce. "Bruce, she's not crying-" When she met Bruce's eyes this time, she saw her own reflection in them, the joined moment of each of them not breathing, hands pressed together tightly, their silence deafening them.

A sharp, small noise echoed in the room, faint at first, but then it grew steady and stronger.

The breath fell out of Amy's body in a rush, her pain dulled from its sharpness, as the cry picked up in intensity. Bruce dropped his head into her lap and when he raised himself back up, he was crying. He leant over and kissed her right above her eyes.

Dr. Sanders left the commotion of crowded nurses, walking with the bundle of blue towels that wriggled and moved.

Amy stared down at the baby in a disbelief she was trying to grasp. "Is she okay?-"

"She's okay, her skin is pink, all her vitals look really good-" Dr. Sanders lifted the baby up and set her against Amy's chest. "Everyone made it-"

Amy's arm closed around the baby's back, feeling the rise and fall of her breath against her hand, below a head full of dark hair. Disbelief was chased away and her body shook and with laughter intermingled with tears. "Hey peanut," Amy stared down at the baby, rubbing her hand through her damp thick hair that curled just gently around her fingers. Her voice caught in her throat as she stared at the daughter she never expected to have. "You know, you're the best thing your daddy ever talked me into doing-"

Bruce erupted into laughter, and a moment later she was laughing again with him, and in another moment he leant over her and kissed her long and slow. He looked down and stared at the baby pressed against Amy's damp chest blinking into the OR's brightness.

" _At long last love has arrived, I thank god I'm alive- you're just too good to be true-"_

The baby blinked her eyes up tracking the sound until she was staring right at Bruce with eyes the same hazel as Amy's.

"- _can't take my eyes off of you."_

Amy was cold, and the room smelled like blood, but her brand new daughter was warm against her chest. And she remembered that day, years ago, when he had sung the snippet of this same song for her, that he had sung to Rebecca on the day she was born.

She leant her head down against Bruce's chest, tearing slid down into the crevices of the smile on her face as his quiet singing filled the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**xxxxXxxx**

" _Life is what happens when we're busy making other plans."_

~John Lennon "Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)"

 **xxxxXxxx**

It took longer for Amy to be brought back to her room than Maxine would've liked, even longer before the doctors "permitted" people back. Sean told her it had only been ten minutes, but Maxine wasn't inclined to believe him as she shoved her way out of the waiting room, both her granddaughters leading the charge with her back down the hallway to the maternity room suite that had been abandoned in the chaotic commotion of Amy's delivery.

The nurses were only letting a handful of people back at a time, so Maxine and the girls were the first wave, and the others were going to wait ten minutes before screwing the rules and bombarding the room en mass.

Maxine stopped short when she got in the doorway and saw Amy sitting up in the bed holding onto a baby swathed in a pink blanket.

"Mom!"

Lauren tore into the room, pushing past Maxine.

Amy looked up from the baby and at Lauren. "Hey noodle."

Lauren raced over to the bed and threw her arms around Amy.

Amy shifted the baby in the crook of her elbow and wrapped an arm around Lauren. "It's all okay baby." She turned kissed Lauren's brown hair twice in succession.

Lauren squeezed her tighter, tears streamed down fast and into her mother's hospital gown.

Amy pulled back, and set a hand to Lauren's hair, glancing backwards at Rebecca who was standing in the doorway with Maxine. "You guys wanna meet your sister?"

At the word 'sister' Rebecca gravitated into the room, walking over to the bed, staring down at the baby with an amazed expression. "Can I hold her?"

"Yeah," Amy sat up more shifting the baby to rest in the bend of her arm. "Just keep one hand under her head-" she tucked the baby into Rebecca's arms.

The baby flailed her arms, brushing against one of Rebecca's braids making her smile. "She's so cute."

"She's got such little fingers." Lauren moved closer and reached a hand down and closed a thumb and forefinger on the baby's fist.

"She's beautiful," Maxine said from the doorway, just watching the scene of her oldest grandchild holding her newborn sister. "She's _absolutely_ beautiful," she came into the room and leaned over the bed, framing Amy's face with her hands and kissed her forehead twice in succession. She turned around and did the same to Bruce, pulling him down to her height to do so before reaching her arms up to hug him.

"Becca, I'm sorry, but may I?" Maxine said after she released Bruce.

Rebecca reached her arms out slowly over Amy's bed and Maxine settled the baby against her, staring down at her newest grandchild, she rocked the baby slowly up and down in her arms. "What's her name you two?"

"Cassidy," Bruce answered his mother-in-law. "Cassidy Evangeline Van Exel."

Rebecca turned to Lauren, "Isn't that your last name?"

"Yes it is," Amy reached over and took Lauren's hand. Evangeline was Bruce's grandmother's name; and even though Amy was not very, or not often at all, close to her ex-husband Michael, it was also Lauren's last name. "This way, Lauren won't be the only Cassidy left in their family."

Rebecca turned to Bruce next. "Great Grandma Evie's full name is Evangeline, isn't it dad?"

"Yes it is baby," Bruce returned. "Your named after your mom and her mother, and I sort of promised Grandma Evie that if I had another baby before she died, she'd get placement somewhere in the name - so what do you think?"

"Cassidy's perfect dad," Rebecca said. "Evangeline would be a _really_ hard name for a toddler to say."

Bruce laughed at this and walked over and wrapped his arms around his oldest daughter. "Thanks for the input," he leant down and kissed her on top of her braids.

"Cassidy Evangeline Van Exel," Maxine rocked the baby from side to side. "I'm your grandmother, one of them at least, Maxine Gray-Mecina, and I'm so glad you finally made it out because I have been _waiting_ to meet you." She pulled the blanket down more from the baby's head exposing more thick curls "I must say right now, you're already far too pretty for your own good, I blame your parents- they're far too pretty for their own goods too." She laughed the laughter like the foam of a drink had gotten up her nose, looking up to her daughter and son-in-law as her laughter caught to them. She leant over and kissed Cassidy on her small nose and was rewarded by her granddaughter with a cooing gurgle.

The opened doorway of the labor room was over run a blur of figures as everyone else who had been waiting for Cassidy's arrival pushed their way in.

Maxine turned to the commotion "Everyone, may I present: Ms. Cassidy Evangeline Van Exel." The last part of her words were lost in the smile that almost threatened to swallow her face as she proudly held her newest grandchild up for the rest of her family to see.

Gillian and Peter were at the head of the group and Gillian covered her mouth with her hands and immediately ran over to Maxine and the baby, Walt tucked against her hip. "Oh Amy, she's _beautiful!"_ Gillian came around to the side of Amy's bed and hugged her just as Peter reached out and slapped Bruce into a hug, followed by Vincent.

Maxine relinquished the baby back to her mother and both Vincent and Peter came around to their sister.

"Great job sis-"

Amy snorted a laugh at Peter's words. "Thanks coach, I did my very best for the team-" she laughed again another moment before Peter leant down and kissed the side of her head.

"She's gorgeous," Vincent leant over Cassidy and kissed her right in her spring of curly hair pressed flat against her head. "You and Bruce are really good at making these."

"That's such a sweet, creepy compliment," Amy returned and in another moment she and Vincent shared a laugh before he kissed her like Peter did.

"Hey, "Sean held his hand out to Bruce. "Congratulations man," When Bruce took his hand Sean pulled him into a hug.

"Thanks Sean," Bruce accepted the brief hug. He looked at Amy cradling the baby, and Lauren and Rebecca standing over them, playing with the infant's fingers.

"You've been officially overrun my friend," Sean said to him. "But there are worse ways to go, at least so I've heard." he gave Bruce a slap on the shoulder.

"There defiantly are," Bruce agreed "So I think I'm safe in taking my chances with this."

"At least until high school," Sean returned.

Bruce laughed at this, watching as Peter untangled himself from the mass of his family walking over to where Bruce and Sean were standing. "Great job bro, she's beautiful- you guys definitely have a future in this-"

"Your sister actually did all the work Peter," Bruce returned. "I just hung around and watched."

"Don't sell yourself short man, it takes two people to make a baby. It's hard, strenuous work, you defiantly had your part getting in there-"

"Peter-" Gillam's voice cut in before Peter could continue. She watched her husband turn to her.

"What?" Peter stared at his wife, not getting why she was shooting him looks for, his eyes widening in a silent signaling formation for her to tell ji,.

"I think it's time we told you in the most loving way possible –" Vincent said to his brother. "you overshare."

Peter's mouth closed slightly, glancing first at Bruce, then at Amy who was looking at him with the same look she gave him when she was 17 and caught him showing her then boyfriend, a page from his Anatomy book about female genitalia. "Sorry," He cleared his throat, and offered Bruce a punch on the shoulder.

"Alright," Maxine said "It's been a long day, It's time to let everyone get some rest." She started shepherding her family out of the room, to a few of their audible protests, mostly from her adult children. She gave one last kiss to Cassidy's face. "I'm going home and telling Grandpa all about out you." She kissed Amy the same way she kissed the baby. "The girls are staying with Peter and Gillian tonight, so no micromanaging for 24 hours, just get some rest." She leant back up and looked over to Bruce. "That means you too, Bruce."

Bruce blew out a laugh. "Yes ma'am."

Maxine walked over to him, looking up at him and rubbing his arm as Sean leant over Amy and gave her a quick kiss before joining the rest of the people leaving the room.

Maxine reached over and grabbed the stray in her family in the form of Walt who had escaped Gillian's grasp, with a squeal from the boy as she scooped him up with a growling noise and walked him out of the room.

The room echoed for a moment in the last dredges of noise from the crowd before it settled down to the quiet soft sounds of the baby in Amy's arms continuing to make her first soft noises of the day.

Bruce walked slowly over to the bed, looking down at them both. "Okay, I think its dad's turn," he reached down as Amy lifted the baby up into his hold.

Amy watched as he stood back up with her in his arms, her hospital issued white onesie fitting completely against the bend of his arms, watching as he walked around to the one small window that overlooked the parking lot, but this high up, only allowed the sun and the tops of buildings to be visible. "She's _you_ Bruce, she's going to be the first ever newborn that will require a _maternity_ test."

"Not with those eyes she won't," Bruce's argument was soft as he rocked the baby, even though she wasn't crying, just doing it to let her know he was there. "There are every bit, unprecedentedly yours, baby-"

Amy laughed for a moment. "Don't do that. Don't call me baby and hold her like that, I can't argue with it-" she laughed again for a moment, but it shook like a wind blowing through a paper lantern.

Bruce looked at his wife in concern, walking back over to the bed. "Are you okay? Do you want me to call the nurse?"

She looked at him, eyes on the baby, whose eyes had closed with soft dark lashes. "She could've died today-"

"But she didn't," Bruce said.

"But she _could_ have," Amy returned. "One," she bent her head down and wiped at her eyes with the heels of both her hands. "One minute, god, one more _second_ out of this room, and no one would've known she was in trouble until it was too late."

"You would've known Amy, before anyone else-"

"Well not fast enough-"

"You were looking for me," Bruce insisted. "If I hadn't gone down to the chapel then you would've have had to leave the floor in the first place."

"You were praying to _saints_ for the birth of our daughter," Amy argued. "I already knew where you were! I just didn't want to sit up here-"

"What happened wasn't your fault," Bruce said.

"I carried her inside me for nine months, Bruce!" Amy argued with Bruce across her the gap between her hospital bed and where he stood, like it had been when they had argued over precedence and procedure in cases they worked together on. "and when I went into labor, things felt different than when I delivered Lauren, but I let every damn nurse in this place talk me into believing that it was just my 'advanced maternal age' and let them suggest running laps around the labor floor, instead of just believing something was really wrong, God-" her face screwed up into disbelief, at herself, at how close everything could have turned out differently. "I'm her _mother-"_

"Which is why you have to trust yourself, Amy-" Bruce cut her off. He sat down on the corner of her bed, shifting Cassidy into one arm, and reached across the blankets to take one of her hands. "You are one of the best mothers I know, the fact that you can't forgive yourself for something you had no control over, doesn't change that, or effect the way she'll love you."

Amy folded her lips together, the sharp saltines of tears sliding down her face. She stared down at Cassidy who wiggled in a onesie with folded over covers for her hands. She leant down and kissed the baby full on the face, wiping at her eyes messily with the back of her hands.

She looked up to Bruce and drew forward until her forehead met the soft brush of a kiss from Bruce, leaning against his own, feeling of his arms moving to go up and down her back.

"You're exhausted," Bruce's voice was a warmth of breath by her ear. "Lie down, and get some sleep."

"I can't," Amy pulled away from him with a sniff, tucking a chunk of disheveled hair behind her ear. "She hasn't eaten yet. The nurse will want me to feed her soon-"

"I can do it," Bruce offered, his hand still warm on her back "Unless you are really opposed to formula for a first feeding."

"No-No it's okay," Amy realized that it was something they never actually discussed, she just assumed. "After Lauren was born, Michael never even offered. Not that I didn't want to, I just would have liked the idea of him-" she broke off and reached both hands up around Bruce's head and kissed him long and deep. "Thank you for being her father."

She stared at them both for another minute before carefully easing herself backwards onto the pillow, Bruce's hand on her arm to help her down onto a comfortable position on her side. Lying down seemed to press all the last of the adrenaline out of her like water being discarded from a sponge, all the muscles she had known she had been using now ached in a profound exhaustion. He stood up from the bed and with a one handed motion, lowering the discarded blue hospital blanket over her and she felt one last kiss pressed to her lips before her eyes closed.


	8. Chapter 8

**of tablexxxxXxxxx**

" _Where there is love, there is life."_

~Mahatma Ghandi

 **xxxxXxxx**

"She's beautiful," Maxine spoke in the phone over the clattering din of the hospital cafeteria and over the noise of a one-year-old and a five year-old fighting for French fry rights. They had all gotten down to the first floor of the hospital before Ned started crying about wanting ice cream and pizza, and his younger brother had soon followed suit. Gillian had promised both boys that they would make them hamburgers when they got home, but by then the smell of greasy, overcooked hospital pizza had hit them, and it was a lost cause.

"Frenchy fry!" Walt screamed right in Maxine's ear, brandishing a ketchup dipped French fry in her face like it was a blood battle sword.

Maxine took the French fry from Walt's hands and turned it around so that the ketchup end faced him, wiping a smudge of tomato smelling red off of her cheek. "She has dark curly hair, and Amy's big eyes, and Bruce's nose-" Maxine broke off to smile into the phone at her husband, whose plane had just landed at the airport. "I can't wait for you to see her." She laughed some more at what Ignacio said over the phone.

"Is this a potato or an eggplant?" Sean stared at the cooked tan piece of food speared on his plastic fork. Maxine had offered to take him home in Amy's Volvo, but he shot her down, saying if she could stomach hospital food in celebration of her newest granddaughter, then so could he.

Vincent looked over at the food Sean held up from where he sat across the plastic table. "I think it's chicken papprakash."

Sean made an 'okay' kind of relinquishing face and took a bite of the food, chewing slowly to make sure it didn't grow knife wielding fists and attack his throat.

"So Sean," Gillian said from where she sat next to Walt in a red booster seat, handing him torn pieces of grease laden pizza. "When are you and Cortney having kids?"

Sean sucked in too tight of a breath, choking on his mystery food. They had commandeered four tables and had pushed them all together, so Rebecca sat in the created length of table right next to Sean. She turned and reached up, slapping him hard on the back, until the half masticated piece of whatever the hell he had been chewing came back up on the tray on top of a floret of steamed broccoli.

Sean released his throat and glanced at Rebecca. "Thanks."

"No problem Mr. Potter," Rebecca returned, she reached over and handed him a glass of water. "Courtney's your girlfriend right?"

Sean swallowed the water a little harder than he meant too, but didn't choke this time. "Yes she is."

"So why don't you wanna have kids with her?"

Sean set his glass down back on the table. "I never said I didn't want to have kids."

"You love her right?" Lauren pipped in sitting beside Rebecca. "I've seen the way you suck face with her."

Sean took a bit of a breath, glancing over to Maxine who was still on the phone with Ignacio, his girlfriend's father, and Maxine's husband. It was a scenario that was all still very weird to him. I "Yes I do." He answered, then turned to Lauren. "And I do not _suck_ _face_ with her, we kiss, like two adults who are in love."

"Then what's the problem?" Rebecca asked.

"I thought you were Catholic," Sean asked the girl, since in the Catholic religion having kids outside of marriage was a bit frowned upon.

"If you love someone it doesn't matter what you are," Rebecca concluded in a voice that sounded so much like her father. "Amy's divorced, older than dad, and protestant, and she's perfect for him."

"Actually it's non _-practicing_ protestant Becca," Vincent informed his stepniece. "It's a long standing religion where we pray invisibly in front of the television until Thanksgiving and Christmas, then it's a free for all." He looked over to Sean. "I've got to go with the teenagers on this one Sean you and Cortney have been together for, what a year? Why not take a shot at procreation?"

"We're not even married yet Vincent," Sean concluded.

"So?" Peter said. "The Catholic 14-year-old doesn't have a problem with it, then why should you?"

"Because Courtney's _family_ would have a problem with it," Sean insisted.

"I thought her grandmother loved you," Vincent said.

"She _won't_ if I impregnate her granddaughter before a ring and a wedding reception." Sean responded.

"They'll be too happy with having a grandchild to care about the cart before the horse Sean," Peter said. "Trust me, I've seen the same kind of thing in Insurance, the technicalities not as important as the final product."

"Should you two be talking about this in front of the kids?" Gillian less than subtly hinted at all the young ears listening.

"Becca and I are 14 Aunt Gillian," Lauren reminded. "We've watched the health video, and Ned and Walt see enough with Grandma's old movies, plus when mom and Bruce-"

"Okay, let's not discuss it," Gillian quickly cut Lauren off with a wave of her hand before she could dredge of the memory of Walt's first birthday party, which had been held at Amy's house. Both Bruce and Amy had disappeared, they said, to get Walt's present from it's secret hiding place, but 5 minutes turned into twenty, so Maxine had taken Walt upstairs to look for it themselves, only to come back down five minutes later with Walt held sideways under her arm, and her son proclaiming loudly to all the guests, including the other toddlers in attendance that Aunt Amy and Uncle Bruce were: "playing."

"I didn't even know she still _had_ that robe," Peter said aloud.

"They probably let her keep it as a memento," Vincent returned.

"I didn't know they let you do that," Peter insisted. "What if she _stole_ it for a souvenir?"

"What if she did?" Vincent returned. "It's not like they're going to want it back after she role played in it-" he coughed the last bit in a snort.

"Vincent Gray-" Maxine reprimanded her son, now being off the phone with Ignacio. "You know the rule, there's a two day post-partum hold on any jokes at your sister's expense."

"Peter started it," Vincent returned, wincing a second later as Peter kicked him under the table with his sneaker.

"Oh damn," Maxine searched the depths of her large brown bag.

"What's wrong grandma?" Lauren asked.

"I left my phone charger upstairs," she stood up from the table where her whole family was at. "I'll just go back and grab it."

"I'll come with you," Lauren said standing up with a squeak of her chair.

"Me too," Rebecca agreed, standing up next to Lauren. "I want to hold the baby again-"

"Your parents and new baby sister need rest you two," Maxine told the girls. "You can see them as much as you want when everyone comes home tomorrow," she said to the disappointment on their faces "Stay here, and while I'm gone, Sean is in charge."

Sean looked up from the chicken he had stopped eating. "Me? Why me?"

"Because you and Courtney need to have a baby, and two teenagers are the maximum level you will _ever_ need to master in raising children," she smiled and patted both her granddaughers on the back. "I'll be right back."

 **xxxxXxxxx**

Maxine walked past the nurses' station where a lone nurse asked who she was here to see, and after quickly telling her, she walked over to Amy's room. The door was partly closed and from where she stood she saw Amy lying on her side under the blankets, asleep.

Bruce was sitting was in the chair by the bed, his phone pressed against his shoulder, Cassidy was lying in his lap on a pillow.

"Amy did amazing, mom," Bruce said into the phone as he held one hand on Cassidy's head, feeding her from a squat baby bottle. "She's always been the strongest woman I know-I mean next to you," Bruce laughed quietly for a moment, the whole time he talked his eyes never left the baby. "She's gorgeous, of course, she has her mom's eyes-you know it was Amy's eyes that got me the first time, so I'm already in a whole lot of trouble-" Bruce laughed again.

Maxine stood in the doorway, the smile on her face growing wide as she listened to Bruce talk about Amy and the baby when he didn't realize any one else was watching him. She backed away from the doorway, smile still in place and walked away from the doorway and back down the hallway.


	9. Chapter 9

**xxxxXxxx**

" _I can be changed by what happens to me. But I refuse to be reduced by it."_

~ Maya Angelou

 **xxxxXxxxx**

The tape on Stu's nose itched an insane amount, but he tried to ignore it, to not draw more attention than was warrented because it was already stark white and present. His asshole of a client already made a remark about it pertaining to boxers and walls with several misplaced swears. But thank God the Judge actually showed up this time, and was able to hear the colorful testimony of the man chained to the hospital bed, which lasted ten minutes too long. But at least the damn thing was done, so he breathed a huge sigh of relief as he went down to the ground level of the hospital and pushed past every person in the barista line, ignoring _their_ colorful remarks and ordered the blackest, most caffeinated coffee they had, and a bearclaw the size of his head, eating through half of it before he was even two steps away from the coffee cart.

He sat down on a wooden bench in front of the Atrium beside a wide set fountain with a center of interlocked iron Koi fish spraying water down into the basin below made copper with hundreds of pennies that had been thrown into it. He drank his coffee down with only half a speed intensity of his bear claw, having to pull the cup back from his smarting nose. Across the atrium was the opened doorway of the gift shop which already had people milling through it even though it had been opened for only thrity minutes. He eyed it for a moment longer, then swallowed the last of his coffee and stood up from the bench. The cup went into the trash can halfway before he entered the brightly lit space filled with candy, teddy bears, humble figurines, and piles of flowers in refrigeration boxes or buckets of water to keep them from wilting.

His phone rang in his pocket, and he pulled it open. "Hey baby," he listened for a moment. "Yeah I just got done-No it wasn't that bad this time-" he looked over the collection of flowers in the buckets of water. "Remind me, you like pink roses right?—No I didn't do anything, hey it might be a good surprise," he pulled one of the bouquets out of the water and walked towards the register with it where a blonde woman in a pink frock stood behind it. "Listen baby I got to go, but I should be home in about thirty minutes, Milk? Year sure I'll grab some, okay yeah, bye." He hung up.

"Just these?" the girl asked him with a smile, pulling the bouquet of flowers towards her.

"Yeah," Stu answered.

"Ouch," the cashier pointed to his face. "That looks like it hurt."

"That's because it sort of does." Stu responded handing over his American Express card.

"What happened?" the girl asked ringing up his credit card.

"Nothing I can repeat," Stu returned.

"Those are the best kind of stories," the girl answered, handing him back his card along with a receipt for him to sign. She looked young enough to view injuries as something cool and worth sharing.

"Not really," Stu scribbled his name across the paper. "Thanks," he took the flowers from her, walking out of the gift shop.

 **xxxxXxxx**

"She is _amazing,"_ Donna walked around the room with a bounce, holding Cassidy in her arms. "A mini Judge Gray and Bruce all rolled into the cutest little package."

"She says thanks for the compliment," Amy wrapped her arms across Donna's back and placed her chin on her shoulder, looking over the other woman's shoulders at Cassidy, giving her daughter a big smile. She moved past Donna in a pair of jeans and her pink pullover that Bruce had brought her from home to change into since she had come into the hospital in pajamas and a bath robe. She reached back into the overnight bag and pulled out a pair of gray socks and her running shoes, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed to put them on.

Donna reached out a hand and grabbed one of Cassidy's little ones. "Cassidy Evangeline Van Exel," She looked over to where Amy was. "I'll bet she grows up to be a Judge-or maybe an astronaut."

"Donna she 26 hours old," Amy reminded, slipping into her left sneaker and tying the laces. "She just learned how to open her eyes and poop in a diaper. She's a little ways off from any NASA launches."

"But she's _your_ daughter," Donna argued, coming around to Amy in the chair, showing her the baby. "She's _destined_ for greatness- aren't you Cassidy?" Donna said this last part like it was a serious question, complete with a serious face.

Amy stared for a moment, but in the end she just ended up smiling. Yes, Donna was often a bit eccentric, but she was also a wonderful friend. She slipped her right shoe on, and pulled the laces tight.

A knock came on the door.

"Hey," Amy didn't look up as she tied off the last of her laces and stood up with winched movement and a slap of her hands on her jeans, "Car seat all ready to go?-" Her words stalled out as she stared up at who she thought had been Bruce.

Stu stood in the doorway in a pristine suit and white tape across his nose. "Hi."

Amy didn't return the greeting.

Donna turned at the sound of the new voice. " _Stu Collins?_ God, how long has it been?-"

"What are you doing back here?"

Donna turned to Amy in confusion, and at the sound of the hostility in her voice. She looked from her to Stu, then back to her again.

"I came to make sure you were both okay."

"Well we're fine-" Amy's words were acidic. "Now you need to leave before I punch you harder than Bruce did yesterday-"

"I'm not pressing charges, Amy."

"Good." Amy said curtly. "You shouldn't be."

Donna whipped her head to Stu again. "Bruce _punched_ you?" Her eyes were almost perfect O shapes. "God, he's 6'2, it must've felt like running into a fully loaded freight train! I'm surprised you still even _have_ a nose!-"

"I also wanted to give you these," Stu cut off Donna's rant, and held out the bouquet of white roses to Amy. "To say that I'm sorry-white roses were your favorite flowers as I recall-"

"You harassed me all day yesterday, you stalked me in the middle of my _labor,_ you treated _my husband_ like he was the punch line of a bad joke, and now you're trying to give me _flowers_ for something _you_ did? God, Stu, what the _hell_ are you _doing?"_

"Trying to mean it," Stu returned. "Amy-" Stu paused for a long moment, just looking at her. "I still care about you."

"You're a little too far past that line Stu-"

"I know I am!-" Stu cut in "I'm married; you're with Bruce, you had his baby, I lost you, I get it!-"

The air hung in several seconds of silence.

"I was never yours to loose, Stu," Amy met his eyes. "I love who I want. I love Bruce, _our_ _daughter_ is a result of that, that's it." She stared long and hard at the man she had almost married, even when everything said she shouldn't, yes because she had been in love all along with someone else, but more because Stu could not love _her_ , not the way he should have. "Go home," she nodded to the bouquet. "Give those to your wife-"

"Answer me one question," Stu said to her. "Were all those rumors true? About you two?"

From the hallway Amy watched Bruce approach the room, stopping short at the sight of Stu standing in the room.

Amy looked over Stu to meet Bruce's gaze, before turning back to him. "Bye Stu."

Stu turned, and saw Bruce standing there watching him.

"Bye Amy," Stu turned around, moving past Bruce and out in the hallway without glancing back.

"Is everything alright?" Bruce asked coming back into the room.

"Amy defended your honor _brilliantly_ Bruce," Donna offered with a gesture of her hands at the word ' _brilliantly.'_ "Like Elizabeth Bennett against Mr. Wickham, or Kiera Knightley's wench character to Jack Sparrow."

"Oh if it was like that, I can go out and come back in again so you can reenact it." Bruce returned.

Amy gave him a mock stern look "Shut up-" she shook her head at him, when he laughed at her. "Are we ready to get out of here?"

"I got the car seat all installed," Bruce told her. "We're just waiting for the nurse to bring a wheelchair."

"I know the statistics about infant kidnappings," Amy eyed her daughter's bare foot complete with beeping black bracelet alarm. "But the whole baby sized low jack and motorcade ride down to the car seems like overkill to me." Amy returned.

"Not if it's in the name of _safety_ ," Donna returned. "I heard that more children were abducted from this hospital last year than jacked Maserati's on the luxury lot downtown, And leaving the hospital-to me it's more like a _parade,"_ Donna volunteered. "I had Ariande in your living room, so I didn't get to partake, but it's like a celebration for the mother and baby to venture out into the world for the first time as two separate entities, but still be together."

Amy closed her mouth in a moment of pondering. "I never actually thought of things like that, thanks Donna."

"Don't mention it," Donna returned. "What are godmothers for?"

"You're starting to remind us, Donna," Bruce returned in genuine sincerity.

Amy's lips pulled back into a smile, very glad of her and Bruce's choice in this matter.

The sound of someone shoving a very large wheeled chair through a narrow opening, and everyone inside the hospital room with the exception of the sleeping newborn raised their head to see Nurse Katie backing a sturdy looking wheelchair into the room with just a little bit of a struggle that left her cursing under breath a bit. Just behind Katie was a second nurse.

"Everything's all set and signed for you and the baby's release Mrs. Van Excel-" she wheeled the chair right up next to where Amy was standing.

"Great," Amy said, she walked over to Donna. " _Then let's go home_ ," she said this in a higher, cooing voice and reached down to pick up Cassidy from Donna's arms, setting her up against her shoulder.

"Just _one_ more second mommy," Katie walked over to Amy and looked down at the hospital bracelet clipped to the baby's foot, then turned to the other nurse. "Ready for the read off?"

Amy just stared confused as the second nurse came around and manipulated her wrist to read the hospital bracelet around her own wrist.

"20139." The other nurse read off.

" _20139,"_ Katie repeated, she reached into her pocket and pulled out something sliver that resembled a very small master key to a padlock. She set it against the black alarm and the bracelet came off the baby's foot. "She's the right one, you don't need to make an exchange" Katie laughed at her own joke. "Just take a seat, all our babies and mommies have to leave together in a wheelchair, hospital policy-"

Katie reached back and helped Amy get into the chair with the baby while the second nurse held the chair steady.

Amy sat back in the chair with a wince, keeping Cassidy close up against her so she wouldn't be jostled too much. "Hey Katie-" she watched the nurse kneel down and raise the footrests up and she set her sneakered feet in them, meeting the nurse's inquiring gaze. "Thank you, you helped save my daughter's life."

"It's my job Mrs. Van Excel," Katie held Amy's gaze and stood back up. "Babies are like a bag of Lays Potato chips to me, I can't save just one."

Bruce made a snorted laugh in his throat, masking it as a cough in his fist when both Katie and Donna turned to look at him, Donna with an expression of confusion at the oddball humor of Katie that _she_ didn't even find funny. He gestured at the wheelchair. "Do you mind if I do the honors?"

Katie beamed at him. "Sure thing daddy," she moved away from the chair, smile still in place as Bruce claimed her spot behind the wheelchair.

"Who does she test run her jokes on?" Amy side barred to Bruce over her shoulder.

"People who don't get them," Bruce returned in a whisper by her ear.

Amy snorted at him in a full bodied laugh that had him join in on in a second before he leant forward and kissed her, her hand moving up to the back of his head.

"Save it for six weeks you two," Katie's voice reprimanded.

Amy pulled back with a satisfied smile, taking a longer moment to look away from Bruce to Katie than she was sure Katie would've liked given her narcissistic joke attention needing problem. She looked back at Bruce, then down at Cassidy, absorbing the way both of them looked at her. "I guess we're ready then." Katie led the way as Bruce pushed them both out of the room and into the hallway that led to the exit.

 **xxxxXxxx**

 **The End.**

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